YES YES YES YES YES YES YEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!!!!!

YES YES YES YES YES YES YEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!!!!!

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: just some angst and then fluff, nothing that would need a special warning

Jeez.. I rewrote the first half of this chapter so many times I can't anymore. I started with the chapter that had 1400+ words and look where we ended up. It took me four days to get it into current version. I really wonder what was flowing in my system that I wrote such a misserable first draft. Maybe I just skipped coffee. Hopefully it finally makes sense😮‍💨

Part XXVIII | Part XXX

Lucien didn't come back after talking with Tamlin. You asked him about the fox boy, but he only muttered that something happened and he had to return to human lands. It was disappointing since you hoped he would stay a bit longer. You liked his cheerful nature and a seemingly endless number of stories.

Without mentioning the conversation they certainly had in the two hours they spent outside, Tamlin stepped closer and hesitantly embraced you for the first time since he rejected your touch in the morning. He leaned his forehead against yours, searching for something in your eyes, his own full of regret. His thumb caressed your cheek as if he was wiping away the tear that had already dried. Only then he apologised for his previous behaviour and tried to make it up to you with a breathtaking kiss.

You really wondered what had happened between the two because since Tamlin returned he was different. It was hard to explain because it wasn't any palpable change, more like a feeling, though it was there. If he was loving and tender before, now he was excessively loving and tender. You would bask in his love and care, if you didn't know any better. The sweetness of his acts was tinged with bitterness that settled inside you and grew with each passing day.

Soon the change became more clearer. There was something wrong with him. He could smile, tease you and cuddle with you as much as he wanted, but the nervous energy and tension was always present. At first he was only occasionally drumming with his fingers, but soon enough he started also pacing a lot, often biting his bottom lip and tapping his foot. He was apparently stressed out.

But why? What caused it? As far as you knew nothing had changed in your lives. You continued with your peaceful simple everyday tasks that he seemed to enjoy before. It was nerve-racking. You tried to help him by making him feel comfortable, preparing delicious food and calming teas. You tried everything you could, however nothing worked.

Soon you were left only with a hope and a believe in love that he expressed so often with every no matter how small a gesture. You wanted to believe in him, but it was hard. His nervousness made you feel uneasy and it got worse and worse.

Lucien promised everything would be fine once he talked with Tamlin. In the weakest moments you wished Lucien never mentioned the wedding, that he never came for a visit. You thought that that was the cause of it all.

You even considered to take out the wedding topic once again, so you could reassure him that you didn't and wouldn't expect anything like that from him. That if he hated the idea of being married so much, you were fully content to continue living with him like this, without any official recognition of your relationship. But, in the end, you were too worried about his reaction and rather decided to throw out the whole idea and bury the words like wedding and marriage so deep that nobody would dig them out.

Tamlin obviously had something he'd like to share with you. However, when you gave him an opportunity to say whatever bothered him aloud, he just brushed it away.

"Is everything okay?"

"Perfectly fine," he always replied. Or, "everything is perfect." Those were the only answers he had for you. Perfect. Perfect. He repeated it so often you started to hate the word.

And on top of all your worries, he everyday disappeared for hour or two, sometimes he was gone even for half a day. Of course, it wasn't something bad and you wouldn't mind it if it wasn't so atypical for him. He was free male and High Lord of this court. He had every right to go wherever he wanted, but during the months you lived together, he had never done anything similar. Definitely not on a daily basis and without telling you what he was up to or where to look for him if necessary.

Each day around the same time, he suddenly stood up, said that he's going hunting and he was gone. He never forgot to return with rabbit or something small, but it was his smell that gave out that it wasn't the only activity he engaged in. You smelled freshly cut wood, earth and paint that lingered on his clothes among the other unfamiliar scents you couldn't decipher. When you asked him about it the first time it happened, he only laughed nervously and quickly changed the topic. It was the first and the last time you tried it. Because if he wanted you to know, he would simply answer the question.

Sadness was consuming you piece after piece until you became dull. You tried to hide it from him, to pretend that everything was as perfect as he'd proclaimed. If only you were a skillful liar. He wouldn't notice anything.

Based on his behaviour it was clear that he not only noticed it but also worried about you. His embraces were firmer and kisses more passionate. He never missed an opportunity to tell you how much he loved you. Moreover after disappearing for hours he even started to bring you flowers as an apology. It was his way of trying to cheer you up, to put a smile on your face. What a pity that it didn't work.

And so you were waiting for him to open up to you until you couldn't take it anymore.

It was after the dinner. All day long, it was quite cold and the evening was even colder. In human lands behind the border was already hard winter and even though an eternal spring reigned in this court, the wind blowing from the south brought some of the coldness in.

As usual, you were seated on Tamlin's lap in embrace of his strong arms, silently watching the dancing flames in hearth. Your mind wandered aimlessly from one thought to another, continuously swirling around him, his sudden change and mysterious behaviour.

The words flowed from your lips before you could stop them.

"Could you, please, tell me what's going on?" you asked him calmly in a small voice. You didn't want to fight. You even wasn't angry. You were just tired, completely exhausted and wanted to know the truth regardless of what it was.

His heart skipped a beat and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He tried to smile. "Nothing. Everything is perfectly fine, love."

You sighed and began to pull away. His embrace tightened, holding you in the place.

"Hey.. Love, where are you going?" he asked lowly, a hint of pain in his voice.

"If you don't want to tell me what's going on, I-" you weren't sure what you wanted to say. You didn't want to give up on him, push him around or give him ultimatum, but this already hurt. And a lot. The uncertainty was slowly killing you.

"Please, don't," he pleaded, tugging you to his broad chest. The tips of his claws slid out, pricking your skin a bit painfully. He was desperate. "Just give me little more time and I will explain everything. For now, just believe in me. Please. I love you so much. I swear it's nothing bad. Really. I actually hope you will like it once you see it. Please.."

You sighed, thinking about it. "Fine," you said at last.

"Just a few more days, love. I know it's already so hard for you, but please, have a little more patience with me," he reassured you again and kissed the crown of your head.

And he did as he promised.

Hardly a week passed since that evening. You were in the kitchen, washing some forest berries that you collected in the morning, when Tamlin returned after two hours of being who-knows-where with a beaming smile. He strolled to you and hugged you from behind, placing a ticklish kiss on the column of your neck followed by gentle nip. Resting his chin on your shoulder he peeked down on your hands.

"What is my pretty little rose doing?" he cooed to your ear happily.

"I thought I would tried to bake a berry pie," you murmured, still not looking at him. You occupied yourself by placing the clean berries on already prepared dough in the baking form.

"Hmm," he kissed the sensitive spot under your ear. "It sounds amazing. How can I help?"

"I'm almost done. Just to bake it."

"Fantastic," he laughed and waited until you placed the last berry and wiped your hands. Then he snapped his fingers. Cake was baked right in front of you. "I think now it's done."

"Tamlin.."

He turned you around and before you could say anything more he kissed you deeply. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring. Fingers of one of his hands threaded through your hair on the nape of the neck, supporting your head, the other hand travelled down your body and settling on your hip squeezed lightly. When he pulled away, he licked his lips and growled contentedly.

"Love, do you remember when I asked you for a few more days?"

"Yes, I do," you hummed, your head still spinning as an aftermath of his actions.

"It's over. I'm ready to show you. If you still want to know, of course."

You immediately agreed and Tamlin smirking winnowed you to the edge of the forest near his manor. He took your hand in his, squeezing it firmly.

"Would you take a walk with me?"

"And where are we going?"

He just laughed. "You will see soon, my love."

And so you followed him. As soon as you walked past the last of the trees, you got a view of his entire estate. You stopped in awe. Even from a far you could see the change. Gardens were clean and freshly planted, facade of the manor was repaired and painted, new windows reflected sunlight.

Your heart sank and you instantly felt sorry that you ever doubted him.

"Is this where you've been going all that time?" you whispered to the wind, tears stinging your eyes.

"Lucien helped a great deal, but I had to make sure everything will be perfect," he grinned down at you and tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from the braid, back behind your ear. "What do you think?"

"It looks much better now. I mean it's beautiful." You swallowed hard and turned to him. "I'm so sorry, Tamlin. I-"

He sealed his lips over yours, silencing you. His kiss was sweet and deep, but he didn't hurry with it, enjoying every second of it. By the time he pulled away, you were weak in your knees, only his arms around your waist still held you upright.

"I am sorry, my love. I wanted it to be a surprise, so I couldn't tell anything. I made you worried and sad because of that. I hope you could find it in yourself to forgive me."

You just shook your head, inhaling his scent and gently drawing circles on his back. You rested your head over his heart and the two of you stood there for some time holding each other, admiring the scenery. Then Tamlin took your hand once again and led you down the hill to the manor. He gave you a tour, starting in spacious gardens and then proceeded inside, showing you different sitting rooms, halls, ballrooms, picture gallery, dining rooms, kitchen and library and at last he showed you some of the smaller bedchambers.

After hours of walking around, at last he took you to the biggest bedchamber that occupied entire top floor. It was a bright complex of connected rooms with up to ceiling windows leading to a private balcony and furnished with light-coloured furniture with a lot of small details.

First you walked into a sitting room with a big hearth and a set of sofas and armchairs placed near it. In one corner of the room was a bookcase full of old looking books, in another was a small counter with everything necessary for making a tea. The room was simply furnished, yet elegant, plants and amounts of blankets and small pillows added to the overall cosy atmosphere that reminded you of your cottage.

Next to it was an actual bedroom. A large bed with cream-coloured sheets dominated to the room. Two sets of doors led to an enormous walk in closet and a bathroom with bathtub big enough for at least two people. Everything was airy, decorated with different kinds of flowers and plants, and overall pleasant to look at.

Tamlin nervously watched you while you took a look around, adding small comments about furnishing and decorations. At the end of the tour he took you out to the private balcony. The view from up there was magnificent. Most of the gardens were visible from there. You couldn't help yourself and got lost in that beauty.

Still nervous Tamlin stood next to you with a light smirk on lips and let you enjoy yourself. After a while he cleared his throat to pull your attention back to him. "So what do you think? Do you like it?"

"It's lovely, Tamlin. You did an amazing job on the house and the gardens as well. Everything is perfect." You chuckled at the word.

"Do you.. do you think you could live in here?" he nervously played with something in his hand, but you couldn't see what it was.

"Live in here? With you?"

"Yes, I mean.." he took your hand, got down on one knee and looked up at you. His emerald eyes shone in last rays of setting sun. He wet his lips nervously before he continued in a slightly trembling voice. "Will you do me the honor and marry me?"

He opened his hand, offering its content to you. In the center of his big palm sat a small heart shaped box with ring in it. It was a simple jewellery, but it perfectly matched the pendant he gave you before.

You let out a shuddering breath. "I-.. I thought you don't want to get married."

"I have to apologise for that. Again." His hand with ring dropped slightly. "I wasn't completely honest back then. And I'm sorry I hurt you. I really didn't mean to. I understand if you decide to reject me. But I want you to know.. You are.. my everything. Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me in my entire life. I want nothing more than for you to become my wife. I'd love to live the rest of my life with you by my side. That's the only thing I sincerely wish and pray for with all my heart."

You couldn't take it anymore, tears sliding down your face. You rushed to his open arms and hugged him with all your strength.

"Tamlin," you cried. "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

"Gods, thank you," he whispered to the crook of your neck and his arms closed around you.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, crying and kissing and again crying. After some time Tamlin carried you to the set of sofas. The sun had already set below the horizon and temperature dropped. Tamlin wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side.

"Can I?" he asked, holding the delicate ring between fingers. You offered him your hand and he slipped it on your ring finger. You held your hand up so both of you could see it.

"It's perfectly perfect," you smiled at him.

He chuckled at your teasing remark.

"Yeah, perfectly perfect. But not as much as you," he kissed you.

Most of the night you spent sitting under the clear night sky full of shinning stars. Later you returned to your cottage to eat already cold dinner that you had prepared earlier, and went straight to the bed. That was the last night you slept in your small cottage in the woods.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania @talesofadragon @ceoofyearning @little-nightowl

ΉΣЯ & ƬΉΣ ƧΣΛ

༊ you ask rafayel how lemurians reproduce, and he can't wait to show you

✯ warnings; rafayel x fem!reader, established relationship, MONSTERFUCKING, switch!rafayel, switch!reader, rafayel's lemurian form, sex underwater, reader is coded to be feminine (wears a dress and lingerie), mentions of alien genitalia, rafayel calls reader 'master' once, petnames (my little conch shell, my queen, baby, my love, miss bodyguard), size kink (reader is obvs smaller than him, he's a goddamn mErmAID), OVIPOSITION, dirty talk, language, breeding, girl on top position, missionary, reader sucks his merman cock (lmao), dubious breathing underwater methods, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, slight spoilers for rafayel's myth if you squint, mild angst

✯ istg i am a zayne girlie but something about rafayel just makes me go feral

"𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒?"

The question stunned Rafayel from taking a bite of his souffle pancakes, his fork pausing from its journey into his now lax mouth. Sunlight continues streaming in past the French windows; the patrons of this cafe going about their day, oblivious to the malfunctioning celebrity artist amongst them.

A glob of whip cream freefalls off the metal tines and onto his plate. Those magnetic pink-blue eyes flash with a multitude of colors—like a sea-worn rock under the brilliant sun. 

However, as fast as your question hit him, he overcame it; no one could say that Mr. Rafayel, the art world's maverick and media-trained connoisseur, was slow in recovering his wits.

His signature teasing smile in place, Rafayel placed his fork back down onto the table.

Across from you, two friends were speaking in low tones and judging from their expression, unpacking their love lives with the sombreness of a priest reciting a divorce rite.

Rafayel blinked, tilting his head to the side. 

"Why would you ask, Miss Bodyguard?" 

He casually slung an arm over the back of his chair, a million dollar smile gleaming and ready. "Or, has something struck your most vivid imagination?" 

Laying it on thick, he couldn't even begin to disguise the gleam of his teeth—shining like the incisors of a great white after smelling fresh blood in the ocean. 

"I never thought you would be so sugges—ouch!"

Rafayel winced, and doubled over, rubbing his shin under the table. "What was that for?" 

You huffed, and fixed him a glare. "Don't embarrass me." 

"I was just joking."

"Wasn't funny." 

"Yeesh. You're really wound up about this, huh?" 

That infuriating smirk was plastered back onto his face; his boyish features making something in your chest squeeze. 

"Shut up and answer the question." 

He pretended to ponder on it for a moment. More color illuminates his stunning amethyst irises. Shining like jewels, only he knew the value of his true thoughts. 

Before you could retract your question and salvage this bright afternoon, Rafayel surprises you with his next words.

"Why don't I show you, my little conch shell?" 

You freeze. Scanning the area, you wondered if this was the right conversation to be having in such a brightly lit area. Granted, you and Rafayel were past the carnal stage —after being together for close to a year, your bodies were well-worn maps that lips and fingers could retrace and discover any time.

Fighting back a laugh, you shake your head.

"Is this another one of your racy propositions again?"

Rafayel merely smirked. "If that is how you wish to see it." 

Seriously now, you counter, "Will I have paint in my hair again?" 

Memories flash in your mind; of a large canvas, soft candlelight, and streaks of paint on the most random parts of your body found weeks after the deed was done. 

Your lover sits back, using one slender finger to cross over his heart. "I promise your hair won't go through such torment anymore." Despite your best efforts, your eyes trail to his broad chest, and the enticing V of his defined pecs.

As if sensing your eyes on him, Rafayel's mirth grows. "Looks like you can't resist much longer, I'll make you a deal—" 

He leaned in close—much too close—and you could smell the vanilla on his breath; the sunlight glinting off those purple irises softening with a look of warmth only he held for you.

"—come with me tonight to Whitesand Bay, and I promise you won't regret it." 

Muggy and balmy in the evening, Whitesand Bay wasn't exactly the ideal meet up spot for Rafayel to finally fulfill his promise and show you how mermaids reproduce. 

But, you showed up anyway.

Dressed in a light, silk dress to combat the heavy heat of the summer night, you cautiously made your way down to the docks, keeping your eyes and ears peeled for Rafayel. 

"You're here." He appeared a moment later, dashing as usual in his white button-down and pristine slacks. Dazzling under the half-light, you allowed him to take your hand and lead you right to a boat.

"We're not going for a to take a deep dive like last time, right?" Hearing the skepticism in your voice, he laughs.

"Of course, not. I paid Thomas a huge bonus last month and told him to buy a speedboat. For us to borrow, if you're curious." 

"Poor Thomas," you mused, letting him hold you close to his side as he helped you atop the board. "His boss is a tyrant... asking him to use his bonus for such lavish nonsense."

"Is it really a lavish nonsense if I get to have you here?" 

Rafayel's sincerity struck you mute. He breezed past your shocked figure, unaware of the effect he has on you. "Well? Are you going to continue mocking my methods of employment or are we going to do this?" 

Even though his chest was puffed and voice full of bravado, you could tell your sweet artist boyfriend was struggling with his nerves. The tips of his ears were bright red, a faint shadow of a pout on his lips. 

"Raffie," you whisper, taking his hand. He glanced at you, wide-eyed like a fish caught on the bait. "What're you so scared of? It's just you and me."

He lets you rub your thumb across his knuckles, tightening your hold on his fingers.

"I just..." he trails off. "... just don't want you to think I'm a freak. That's all."

Rafayel refused to look at you when he was this vulnerable, and you couldn't help the short giggle bursting past your defenses. He glared, and you quickly reached for his face, touching his cheek.

"Never," you emphasize. "I will never think you're weird. Ever. Besides, if you're a freak then I'm the weirdo in love with you."

Your dopey grin sets something aflutter in his chest, like ripples of ocean waves splashing across a strange shore. Rafayel smirks and takes your hand off his face, choosing to twine his fingers with yours. 

"Shall we make a move, then, my little conch shell?" 

"Rafayel..."

The sight before you stuns you with its splendor. Your beloved boyfriend had gone all out—picnic blankets, lighted candles, flutes of champagne, and spreads of seafood as far as the eye could see... arranged all across the flatbed of this hidden alcove where the sea kisses the land. 

In the distance, the gentle swishes of waves lapping at the shore greeted your ears, its waves illuminated faintly as if lit from within.

"Bioluminescent algae," Rafayel murmurs right behind you. His arms came to wrap around your waist, the heat of his breath fanning right across your exposed neck. "They only appear in the summer when the water is warm." You fight back a shiver, trying not to show how affected you were by his presence. 

"Oh." Dumbly, you weren't sure how to put your thoughts together, much less a coherent sentence. 

Sensing your speechlessness, Rafayel exhaled a laugh. "Come on. We should eat before the food gets cold."

There's a dip in his tone, something tinged with a darker emotion you barely had time to unravel before he was tugging you onto the picnic mat. The food was divine, his personal chefs going all out to satisfy both of your palettes. Conversation flowed easily like the champagne slipping down your throat, coaxing you to release the tightness in your chest in favor of bubbly giggles and flirty smiles.

Rafayel's cheeks were steadily growing pinker, and you were sure he would double over and pass out—forgetting about your brazen question—when you felt his hand on your thigh.

"Would you like to take a swim with me?" 

Memories of seaweed brushing your bare legs, Rafayel’s arms steadily around your waist as he led you past the shoreline fills your mind. Anything cool sounded like a blessing from this heat. 

Plus, he was a pretty good swimmer, as evident from what he truly was. Rafayel would never put you in harm’s way. 

Safe. That was the word. You always feel safe with him. 

“Yes.”

He takes your hand, gives it a squeeze and helps you stand.

Rafayel started to undress first. The hem of his expensive silk shirt reveals the fitted band of his equally expensive slacks—made by the best tailors in all of Linkon. Then, pale skin. It stretches, tightens over defined obliques, abs and then his impressively broad chest. 

Scattered across the sinew and muscle roping his torso were smatterings of moles and beauty marks. 

Someone once told you that these marks were spots past lovers used to love kissing. You idly trace your gaze over the one on his left pec, right over his heart. 

If Rafayel and you had been together in the past, you were sure that the spot over his heart would be your favorite spot to plant your lips on him. 

As furtively as you could, you tried not to gape at him, but completely failed.

Rafayel was a masterpiece made by the gods themselves, and you were the poor fool gaping at his altar; transfixed on the sharp V which led to a light dusting of his happy trail. 

His cock strains behind his slacks, bulging noticeably. You want to reach out and skim your fingers, eager to feel it twitch under your touch. 

"Well?" His gentle amusement tore your thoughts from their sinful vices. "Are you gonna just stare at me or are we going for a swim? Your pick, Miss Bodyguard." 

Showing that you were far braver than you felt, you stood up, shaky hands reaching for the straps of your dress. "Don't look at me." 

A surge of heat flooded your cheeks, your eyes resolutely turned to the side. Obediently, Rafayel followed your orders, though you could hear the cogs turning in his head. It's not like I haven't seen her naked before.  

But, this wasn’t the usual plotting, teasing and flirting you both would indulge in.

Something about the air tonight felt heavier. 

Intimate.

You swore Rafayel could pick up your heartbeat from where he stood. The heat on your cheeks spread down your chest, tingling on your fingertips.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

In nothing but in your lingerie, you shift from foot to foot, feeling too vulnerable and open.

The sky above yawns wide, inky black jaws lovingly unfurling like a spread of velvet sheets. His hand is warm in yours, and you squeeze it, trying to hide how you were trembling. 

“Hey.” Rafayel sweeps you into his arms. Try as you might to fight off the nerves, they bubble up in a short squeak when your face meets his chest. “Relax, baby. You’re shaking like a bubble in the sun… don’t pop just yet.”

You find comfort in his scent—oceanic and musky—breathing him in. 

Do you trust me? Rafayel once asked when you both were drunk on a night out. 

Of course, I do. You flick his nose. Why wouldn’t I trust you? 

Even if I’m different? He fixes you with a look, lucid for someone who had just downed an entire champagne bottle. And I can’t be normal for you? 

Especially because you aren’t normal in the sense of its word… I trust you even more because you trusted me, first. 

Waves lap at your toes, and you shiver at how cool the water is. 

“Easy,” Rafayel coaxes you. He takes the lead, sinking into the soft sand first, never releasing his hold on you. 

You do as he says, a sailor to his siren call, except you knew in your heart you would willingly follow him till the ends of the world.

Once the water was up to your waist, Rafayel exhaled. “Stay here. I’ll be back.” 

You don't have time to protest when he dives into the waves, barely kicking up a spray. Eyeing the softly luminated sea surface, you dip your fingers into the warm water, watching a blue orb float in between your loose fists. 

“Hey.”

Startling, you look up to find him grinning, lilac hair darkened with salt water; holding a bundle of what you thought was tangled hair in his grasp.

“I know you hate the taste of seaweed, but this’ll help when we… get into things.” 

He ends in an awkward note, and you wondered what happened to the once cocky, and sure Rafayel you knew. 

Unfurling his clenched fist, he hands you one single strand. “Eat this. It’ll help you breathe underwater temporarily.” 

“What is it?” you sniff at the strange vegetation. 

“Hydroweed. It gives humans the ability to breathe underwater for up to an hour.”

Putting your faith in his words, you nod. Opening your mouth, you bite into the Hydroweed. 

The briny taste was overwhelming, its tough fibers making it difficult for you to chew. But, you manage to swallow it down. 

Instantly, you felt your throat closing, the air choked out of your lungs. “Rafayel—!” 

Strong hands grab your waist, dragging you under the foamy waves. 

You gasp, about to scream at him to let you go, when you took in your first deep breath underwater.

The world suddenly came to life. Bright blue orbs floated right in front of your face, and you reached for them, in awe at how vivid they glowed now you could see them up close. 

Down in the depths, the waves became hushed murmurs in the background, filling your ears with a ringing silence. 

“Are you okay?” Rafayel’s voice shot through the floating calm like a shout, and you cringed back in shock. 

“Sorry,” he laughs, and pulls you to his side. “It’s way quieter down here than up above because sound travels differently. Strange, huh?” 

You nod, not entirely sure if you could use your voice. As if he read your thoughts, Rafayel chuckles.

“Go ahead and speak, my little conch shell. I can hear you just fine.” 

You take a deep breath. “O-okay.” Growing confident and more comfortable, you relax in his embrace. “It feels… strange. Like you said. But, at the same time, I don’t entirely hate it.”

“Mhm,” he rubs your back, smiling reassuringly and wide. “If there are other Lemurians within a few miles, they can most likely hear you scream.”

His double meaning didn’t register until you felt his palms tracing your hips, teasing down your body to give your ass a fond squeeze.

“Hey—!” 

You swat his hands away, mute with embarrassment. “I-is that why you all live so deep in the sea? For privacy?” 

Rafayel hums. It’s a little off putting how clear his voice sounds, like you were listening to him through a pair of high-grade earphones. 

“Usually, Lemurians mate deep in the trenches where the light can’t find us. It helps to keep things more private and intimate. If not, we travel to other seas uninhabited by our species. I used to know a guy who dragged his wife to the middle of the Atlantic when they were trying for a family.”

Rafayel’s focus ebbs into the distance, a tinge of sadness in his tone that appears whenever he speaks of his long lost people and home. 

You take his hands in yours and squeeze, trying to draw him back from the precipice of his ruined memories.

“We could try…” you trail off, unsure if this was the right thing to say. “...to repopulate it?” 

Like your words were a trigger, you found yourself planted right on the ocean floor, soft sand cushioning your body.

You squeak, quickly darting your eyes to his, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders.

Rafayel’s usual glimmering pink-blue eyes were shadowed by a darker emotion; reminding you of glinting shark teeth or a blade of moonlight slicing through choppy water. 

“Don’t say that, baby.” Was it you, or did his voice drop an octave? 

Your Lemurian lover’s low reprimand made a shudder run down your spine, his half-mast eyes causing your stomach to flip.

“You don’t know how those words make me feel… my kind used to reproduce by the dozens—I can’t wait to see you bulging with my babies.” 

Wait… babies? 

With a capital ‘S’?

His mouth lands on yours, hungry and seeking. You kiss him back with as much ardor, lost in the sensations that you almost forgot what he had said earlier.

“Raf… Rafayel—” you gasp when he starts to dig his teeth into your neck, nipping down your jaw and collarbone.

Deft hands unclip your bra, the motion fluid like he has done this a million times before. From the corner of your eye, you see every article of clothing he took off you floating right to the surface; moonlight bouncing off the fragmented surface, playing across the broad expanse of his back. 

Your head swims with fuzzy thoughts long discarded when he pushes the plush fat of your tits together, licking and nipping around your areolas, ignoring how your nipples were already circling with need. 

“Raffie…” You fist his hair, trying to push his mouth to where you need him the most. “Don’t tease me.”

He laughs at your soft whine. “I need to make sure you’re prepared, my love.”

My love. Rafayel only called you that term whenever he was in the thick of his passion; it seems like you were about to witness the cumulation of your innocent question coming true.

Strong hands held you firmly while he eased down your body, planting fleeting kisses on every inch of your skin his lips could touch. 

Down in the deep, gasps and screams weren’t sounds, but vibrations; the sounds escaping your mouth resounding around your entwined bodies.

“Fuck,” Rafayel cussed once he reached the apex of your thighs. “I can’t wait to finally taste you underwater.” 

Barely giving you time to brace yourself, the broad stroke of his tongue melted through your folds. 

Never would you have imagined you would be eaten out right on the ocean’s bed—going deeper and deeper into the neverending blue. 

Rafayel’s lips were wrapped around your nub, sucking and caressing it with his tongue exactly how you liked it. Your smaller fingers sank into his hair, the other entwining with his own above your heart; back arched to give him everything you have.

“S’good,” he murmurs, verging on the edge of slurring. “I love you.”

His name tumbles from your mouth like a primal echo, calling him right to the edge of a bottomless trench.

Rafayel wasn’t afraid; he would traverse the deep beyond for as many chances to be with you as he could.

“Put your legs around my waist,” he whispers in between sloppy kisses back up your body. 

If someone were to tell you that your sweet boyfriend was literally making love to you on the bottom of the ocean, you would tell them a Wanderer had infected their mind.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his body emanating a faint glow. A distant memory claws past the thin membrane of your barely held together thoughts; moonlight bouncing off pink-blue scales, his unbearable body heat and a pearly sheen misting his eyes.

“Rafayel—” 

The change was imperceptible. At first, you couldn’t feel anything but the sinful sinking of his cock stretching out your cunt. 

Then, it hit you like a freight train.

His waist felt like it was expanding, pushing your thighs further apart. But, when you glanced down the line of your bodies, the length of his legs was replaced by something longer. Bigger. It distinctly had two fins attached to the end, bent at an angle to accommodate the position he was fucking you in.

“R-Rafayel—!” 

“Fuck,” he strains, lining his forehead with yours. “I-I’m scared of hurting you.” 

“N-no,” you force your thick tongue to relinquish the words. “You'll never.”

His skin grew harder under your touch, inches of pale expanses replaced by shiny scales. Minus his face, his limbs, back, chest and torso were completely covered by the armor-like toughness of multiple hardened plates. Where the scales couldn’t touch, they were bonded together by thin layers of lamella, giving his entire body an otherworldly sheen. 

Mesmerized, you titled his face towards you, marveling at the scattering of scales adorning his throat and jaw. 

“Wow,” you murmur, touching them. They weren’t as hard or sharp as you imagined; his scales had a delightful give you couldn't stop pressing down on. 

In response, Rafayel grunts. “Baby… It’s happening.”

You were about to part your mouth and ask him what was, when your eyes shot wide open. 

The place where you both were connected suddenly grew tighter, as if something was pushing against your insides. Your muscles instinctively tried to expel the foreign intrusion, tensing and tightening—it was a shot of fear unlike any other you had ever tasted. 

Panicking, you cried out, “Rafayel, stop!”

Immediately, he ceased rutting into you, breathing heavily. Anguished, pastel eyes peel clapped onto yours, a pearly sheen filming over them.

“Shit… shit, I’m so sorry…”

“What’s happening?” you blurt out, a tremble of fear in your question. “Are you… are you putting e-eggs in me?” 

“Eggs?” he sounds bewildered, and that causes you to be perplexed in turn. Breathing hard, Rafayel’s forehead thumps onto your sternum. He doesn’t refute you or confirm your suspicions. Instead, he takes in a deep, ragged breath, like he was trying to tame down a cresting emotion. “Did you actually think, for a single second, that I was going to leave eggs in you?” 

Before you can even speak, his broad shoulders start to shake. Rafayel’s quiet laughter roused your confusion and indignation; your brows furrowing together because he wouldn’t stop laughing.

“Shut up,” it was your turn to be the whiner in this relationship. “You’re mean. It’s a valid question!” 

“Oh, baby,” he wheezes. One second, he was laughing, and the next, he lapsed into a quiet seriousness, the sudden mood change giving you whiplash. “I would never hurt you like that, my love. Trust me.”

Gently grasping your hand with his, he slips it down both your bodies, right to where you two were connected. “What I meant to show you, my little conch shell, is this.” 

He brings your hand between your own legs. You thought he was going to make you touch yourself, but when you feel something hard and distinctively not flesh-like bump your hand, you flinch back.

“Ssh, don’t be afraid,” he murmurs. “Go on and take a look, my love.”

Again with my love. 

Rafayel was either struck with nerves, or he was completely enamored with you at this moment. 

You licked your lips, tasting salt water on them and cautiously stretched your fingers to feel the strange object up. It was long and girthy, like a penis, except it wasn’t.

Steeling yourself, you risk a peek.

Gone was the smooth, veiny skin of Rafayel’s cock. His human one. 

In its place, was a thick length, riddled with ridges and bumps like an octopus’ tentacle. His very human appendage was always a stunner—slender (like his physique), veiny, with a hooked tip—but the sight before you (that strange and downright alien sight) blew your expectations out of the water. 

Your gasp reverberated around the pressing silence. Rafayel was quiet, waiting for you to speak. In turn, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his new genitalia. 

“Is that…” you struggle to piece together a coherent question. “Is that all… going inside of me?” 

Rafayel grunts. “Unless you don’t want me to, sweetheart.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, staring past the crest of his shoulder towards the shimmering, seemingly impenetrable ceiling of a world beyond the bubble you both created.

“I do,” you finally whisper, your confession rippling around the both of you, suspending your forms in an endless wave of mutual ecstasy. “I want this. I want you.”

Rafayel doesn’t bother to waste his time replying. You brace yourself, heels digging into his hips, clinging onto him with all of your strength. 

The first breach of his otherworldly cock inside of you felt like a touch of electricity up your spine. You cried out, nails digging into his scaly shoulders.

“Relax,” he paces you through the sensations. “I need you to relax for me, my love. I can’t get in if you’re this tight.” 

You gulp in a few deep breaths with your eyes screwed shut, and eventually, your heartbeat slows down. Sluggishly cracking your lids open, you catch the gleam in his pink-blue irises; locks of his iridescent hair floating around his serene expression.

The strange sensation was back, easing past your ring of muscle. You choke on a moan, trying to swallow your fear. 

“Ssh,” Rafayel murmurs. To distract you, he leaves feathery kisses on your cheeks, jaw and then, your lips. 

If the bottom of the ocean wasn’t enough to drown you, his kiss would. 

Rafayel… you whisper into the water. 

His name was a prayer dedicated to the Sea Gods on your tongue, your body sprawled out beyond your comprehension. Every line of you was taut with tension, the achingly slow stretch of his appendage plunging deeper and deeper into your heat had your head spinning like a whirlpool was threatening to suck you in. 

“Almost,” his harsh whisper clashes with your breath. “So good for me; you’re doing so good for me, my love.”

“Rafayel,” you mewled, the sea taking your tears. Hiccuping his name, you shudder, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

Your fist clamped down on soft sand, your back arched, and finally—finally—you felt his hips clipping yours.

“Fuck.”

The both of you groan in unison. 

His kisses were still warm, flush on your parted lips. Rafayel shunted his hips forward, then back. Repeating the same motion. 

Again. Again. And again.

The sensation was unlike any other you had felt in this world. No cock could possibly compare to the ridges wrapped around his length, the blunt, elongated tip almost touching the deepest part of your body.

“Rafayel,” you cried in a thick voice, like your mouth was filled with cotton. “Oh, God…”

Your tits flushed to his chest, your fingers in his hair and his tongue twining with yours shook your inner world like a deep sea earthquake.

This wasn’t like your usual lovemaking sessions; everything was amplified, more sensitive and tangible.

God, was it all so tangible.

You could physically feel every scaly ridge under your fingertips. His modified cock dragging those ecstasy-inducing bumps across your walls. Even his taste was different underwater; like a briny, primal flavor which coated your tongue. 

“Y/N,” his moan more angelic than what you could handle. “I love you. I love you so, so much—” 

Rafayel choked, and you didn’t need to ask to know he was about to cum. 

The ecstasy of it all wrapped its tendrils around both your embracing bodies; a human and Lemurian entangled in a dance as old as time. 

“I love you,” you cry out, toes curling and your nails raking down his back. Rafayel grunts, and in the dim half-light of the ocean engulfing you, you swore you saw his frantic eyes shine like precious pearls.

The world was closing in, darkness seeping into the corners of your vision. 

You pushed on his shoulder, trying to get his attention; acutely aware that the ache in your lungs wasn’t because of his kisses, but of something else.

Something out of your control.

The call of the surface burned through your lungs, and you opened your mouth, about to scream for him to let you go, when it all slammed into you like a tidal wave.

Darkness exploded, splattering across your mind, and you heard his cry of your name, the sound now echoey and muggy.

There was movement. A sharp tug. What sounded like wind whistling through your ears. 

Through your snatches of consciousness, you were aware of the pushback both your bodies weathered through the wall of water; how the ocean was trying to hold you back.

As soon as the sensation appeared, it was shattered by a golden burst of fresh oxygen.

Gulping in mouthfuls of air, you yelled out in fright, blindly grappling across the writhing dark mess of endless ocean surrounding you. 

Rafayel! Rafayel!

You felt strong arms wrap around you, holding you in his embrace like how a father would cradle his child.

Close your eyes, you thought you heard him murmur in your ear. And don’t open them until I tell you it’s safe to.

Arms clamped around his shoulders and legs wrapped around his waist, your intrinsic fear of the ocean made you trust his word. 

Gently now, you were bobbing across the water, the cool currents rushing across your bare skin. It felt like gelatinous cold drafts constantly hitting every body part. Staying true to his promise, you kept your eyes shut until you felt rough sand on your back; the waves receding from your body to lap at your toes.

Gasping, you peel your eyes open, lid by lid.

The alcove where he took you tonight was back in front of you. 

Rolling onto your front, you tried to stand, but only succeeded in stumbling back onto the sand; losing your sense of balance from countless minutes spent suspended in the ocean's mass.

“Hey, hey. Easy there.”

Rafayel was still in his Lemurian form, and this time, under the dim, flickering lights of the bay’s lanterns, you were stunned into an awe-inspiring disquiet.

The flickering warmth casted shadows over his iridescent scales, those once tough and gray plates under the ocean’s darkness glowing from the inside out with a pink-blue flame.

Half of his tail was still submerged in the water, and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze across the stunning length.

Easily a few feet long, you couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around the mental image of how majestic his entire Lemurian form would look underwater. It was just too bad the Hydroweed’s effects were over before you could even get to the good part.

Your thighs were chafing, drawing attention to your gapingly empty cunt. 

Pulling yourself to your knees, you came chest to chest with him. 

Rafayel’s saltwater soaked fingers grasped your cheeks, titling it up to inspect you. 

Trickles of water seeped down his face, darkening the sand with droplets of wetness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, fraught and remorseful. “I lost track of time. I could’ve seriously injured you.”

“It’s okay.” The both of you flinched back from how hoarse your voice sounded. Clearing your throat, you struggled to put your mushy thoughts into words. “I… enjoyed it.”

Rafayel dropped his hands, his breathing growing ragged. “I should get back to normal—”

“No!” 

You stunned him with your vehemence, scrambling to grip his shoulders, clapping your crazed eyes onto his widened ones.

You’re acting like a mad woman. 

But, he didn’t say that to you. Rafayel grasped your hands, drawing them to his chest, pouring every drop of attention onto you. 

“I want to… try it… here.” 

You pieced together your incoherent request, and a part of you wondered—dreaded—if you had already lost your mind from the lack of oxygen and crushing deep sea pressure. 

Rafayel stared at you for a moment, unspeaking.

Then, he gently dragged you closer. Before you could even squeak, he had you straddling his waist. 

This time, it was your turn to peer down at him, curtains of your wet hair framing your face.

“Take me, then,” his voice was equally as hoarse as yours, though you suspected it wasn’t from ingesting enough saltwater to fill up your lungs. Trembling fingers touched your face, smoothing across your cheeks. “I’m all yours. I’ve been bound to you since the very beginning. You can take me, I won’t fight back. I told you I wouldn’t that night, don’t you remember? I’m keeping my word now.”

Something about the longing in his tone, how those pink-blue eyes yearned to swim in your soul, brought a lump to your throat. 

“Rafayel…”

Strong hands helped to guide your hips over his cock, easing you down with quiet praises and encouragement.

So good for me, baby. Look at you. Taking me so well. Wish I could paint this moment—you look so pretty. All for me. My love. My love. 

“R-Rafayel!” Thin red lines bloomed on his chest from your nails, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Without the sea’s buoyancy to support you, gravity took over, easing you down his bulbous cock.

Rafayel’s thumb circles your clit, rubbing it gently, soothingly, to get you wetter.

Your body felt like it was about to split cleanly into two—he was much too big for you. 

“C-can’t!” you whisper-cried. “I can’t take all of you—ngh.”

His mouth found your nipples, licking and sucking along the fleshy nubs until they were coated with his spit and tightening obscenely; an erotic outline lit by the bay's dim lantern lights.

“You can,” he mumbled in between your breasts. “I know you can.”

The rough strip of his tongue slid from your sternum towards your neck, pausing right at your pulse point. Sharp bites bloomed on your neck from his teeth, and you shiver from the throbbing pain going straight to your clit. 

That strange, heightening sensation was back. You felt much too sensitive, like a lightning rod trembling from an impending electrical storm.

One touch could’ve made you explode.

Rafayel brought your lips to his, tangling his tongue down your throat; stoppering your cries. 

Warm, smooth, distinctively human palms caressed your hips and thighs. 

Almost in, baby, he whispers in between kisses. I can feel every inch of you. 

You flit your eyes to where both your bodies meet, in mute shock from how deep he already was in you.

“You like it, baby?” he breathes warmly on your jaw. “Like watching yourself sit on my cock?” 

Fuck. Stop teasing me, you want to whine. But, the words won’t slip past your clenched teeth. 

His name bounces across the soft sand, the wind picking up and making you shiver. 

The warm glow of the lanterns spill across his sharp cheekbones, planes of his jaw. You’ve never seen someone look this beautiful under a hazy night sky before.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” you feel him murmur against your lips. “Say the word, baby. We’ll stop.”

You’re panting now, trying hard not to break your progress and having to start over. Rafayel was about halfway inside, and you forced your body to push and receive. 

Guh, you gasp, tossing your head back. 

“Love seeing you stretch yourself out on my cock, baby,” Rafayel mutters hoarsely—passionately. 

The implicit meaning in his words is clear: I love how you give yourself so willingly to me.

For Rafayel, you would do this ten times over until your body memorizes him. Willing your cunt to make a home for his monster cock even if it would break your spine.

“Almost,” he reassures in a low groan. “You feel s’good baby.”

He’s sweating as well, bullets of exertion not to break his composure and fuck into you mingling with the last of the seawater droplets rolling down his temples.

Rafayel, Rafayel, you whimper his name over and over. Oh God…

Something bubbles inside of you, thick and hot. You think you’re about to spill over, thighs shaking from the effort of holding yourself up. 

Your lover groans, low and lusty, his eyes trapped right in between your legs. “You’re so wet—look. Your little pussy loves me, baby.”

You glance to where he’s telling you to look, and nearly pass out from the embarrassment. 

Thick, pearly droplets are oozing down his merman length, and you would’ve thought it was from him had you not felt your walls start to twitch—more wetness gushing and trickling down to stain his pelvis.

The added lubrication made it easy enough for you to bottom out on his cock, and both your mutual cries of ecstasy reverberated into the dark night.

Shit, shit. Too big. You’re too big for me.

“You can take it,” he mouths your earlobe, kissing down your cheek. “Doing so well for me.”

Your breathing trembles, like a question hanging in thin air. Can you fuck me now? 

Rafayel scoffs and bumps his nose with yours gently. “Always making me do the hard work. You really are my spoiled, pretty princess, aren’t you? Or…” his voice drops, the heat in his eyes almost scorching you. “Do you want to be my good girl?”

You gasp: I do. I want to be your good girl.

He hisses when you start to shift your hips, the motion making your clit catch on his pelvis. You mewl, leaning forward to repeat the same motion; trying to chase after that spark of pleasure over and over again.

Those big, smooth palms cradle your face, pushing your hair back.

Rafayel’s jaw is tense, like he’s biting down on some inner demon you can’t see. 

That’s it. That’s my good girl. 

Your nails leave white crescent moons on his pale shoulders as you ride him, every bump and ridge of his cock brushing your sweet spot. He was so deep in you, almost plunging right past your cervix. 

“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

An arm sweeps you right to his chest, your cheek pressed atop his heartbeat. Rafayel thrusts his hips up, meeting your sensual grinding.

Spit pools in the back of your throat, your eyes squeezed shut as you let your Lemurian lover have his way with you. You part your mouth, mellifluous moans touching the air and turning it golden to his reddened ears.

I love you. His whispers against your throat, the sting of his teeth soothed by the sweetness of his praise and adoration. I love you so much, my good girl.

“You fuck me so good,” the words tumble from your split mouth, recklessly thoughtful. “No one can fuck me like you.”

Yeah, he pants, mouthing your pulse point. Cream on this cock, baby. It’s all yours. His hands span across your lower back, traversing down to grip your ass and spreading you wider for him.

Give me everything you’ve got, Princess. 

His cock plunges so deep inside of you, and you were sure that if he came right now, he might’ve knocked you up in one try. 

All yours. Rafayel was all yours. 

You lean up, arms resting on either side of his head as the sand bites into your skin. 

Rafayel thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. He watches, mesmerized, as your tits sway right in front of his face. You’re fucking him now, meeting each fluid thrust he had to give; bouncing on his lap like you were riding out a desperate heat.

His thighs tense, and he feels your pussy clench down on him. 

Fuck, you stutter, and so do your hips. I’m close. 

He squeezes your ass, smacks it with both palms.

Your breathing catches, and you ride him even harder. Faster.

“Fuck,” those pretty eyes were hooded, latched on your bouncing tits and stiff nipples. “Look so good fucking me—you love using me, don’t you, Master?” 

You gasp, and Rafayel feels your composure slip when you squeeze down on him. He almost cums right there and then. But, he fights it off, needing to see you lose control first.

The sight of your stickiness frothing at the base of his cock nearly makes him white out in pleasure, getting messier with every stroke of his non-human cock. 

He’s never had a human before in his Lemurian form, but it’s something straight out of a wild, wet dream.

Your skin was so, so soft in comparison to his hard scales that he’s almost afraid of hurting you with them.

But, you prove you’re made of tougher stuff when you lean back, bracing both hands on the girth of his tail. 

Showing off your puffy pussy and glistening hole taking every inch of him like it was made for this and only for this purpose.

He feels himself drowning in you. No one has ever taken him this deep. His mouth falls open, a low grunt touching your hot ears. Good girl… good fucking girl. His praises make you warm all over. You would do anything and everything to earn his devotion. But, Rafayel doesn’t make you do it—he gives it to you freely. One large hand smoothed over your belly, your tits, pinching your nipples and smirking inwardly when you gasp and groan. 

Breathy whimpers resound, his thumb on your clit rubbing out full body shudders. The sky above spins, like he’s being sucked into and about to be spat out of a whirlpool.

His eyes bounce from the softness of your belly, your tits jiggling, and then back down to your pretty pussy taking all of him in.

“Like what you see?” 

Rafayel flits his gaze back up. Your eyes were two pools of smoldering heat, about to burn him alive.

You grab his wandering hand, pressing it right over your stomach. “I can feel you here.” He twitches, and you gasp. “So, so deep.”

Sloppy sounds of your bodies meeting; you were so, so wet and perfect. Your pussy was gushing, fighting between squeezing him out or sucking him in. 

I’m gonna cum, baby, he grunts. The vein in his neck tightens, and your whimper almost sets him off.

Gonna cum so deep inside of you. Make you so round and perfect with my babies. You’re my Queen, aren’t you? My love. I’ll love you until the seas dry up. You’re mine forever. 

It’s that tinge of possessiveness which does you under. You were putty to his deep, gravelly voice; those words of unending devotion and sin.

His thick, dark lashes flutter, those pretty eyes rolling back into his head.

Fuck, baby. He grabs onto your hips, looking for something to steady him. “I need you… I’m gonna cum,” he whines, and it’s pathetic really—how much you’ve affected him.

If he was a lesser man, Rafayel might’ve called you his weakness. But, you were more than that.

You were the reason he woke up in the mornings. The reason he relentlessly pursued the passages of time and space to find you; you were the muse to his madness. 

“Do it for me, baby,” you pant, and fall back into his arms. Chest to chest, lips to lips, every breath you took was exhaled by his own. “Cum for me.”

Make me yours forever, Rafayel.

The world goes white, and your pussy quivers around him, an ending opera note suspended in mid-air.

It comes crashing down, slo-mo turned to a normal pace when time rushes back to engulf your sluggish shore.

His cum fills you up, thicker and running hotter than a human’s. It felt strange; pulsating inside of you, glob after glob. Your pussy shudders and breaks, physical and emotional walls all torn down for him; voice hoarse and edged with mania. Rafayel, Rafayel, Rafayel…

You mumble his name like a prayer while he drags your lips to his, kissing you like an oath.

He feels you shudder around him, growing weaker like a kitten. It would be so easy for him to pierce your neck with his teeth, cut through your jugular with his scales. 

But, Rafayel tames his primal, oceanic urge to destroy, reining it back in favor of nosing your hair.

“Felt so good,” he mumbles tiredly. “Are you okay, my little conch shell?”

You hum, shift your hips. The bulbous head of his cock brushes the opening of your cervix. “I can’t believe I took you so deep.” You drift off and in a few minutes, feel him go from soft to half-hard in you again. 

“Are you still turned on, baby?” you ask innocently, voice soft and frayed with exhaustion. Rafayel swivels his face away, trying to hide his red ears.

“N-no.”

You huff a laugh, using all the strength in your jelly-like limbs to sit up. Something catches your attention, and in the corner of your eye, you pick up the dark strands, fisting it close to your mouth.

Rafayel watches, unsure what you’re intending to do. He sits up, squints, and almost gasps.

That’s enough Hydroweed for you to last a night under the ocean. 

He’s about to stop you, when you ingest it all in one go.

The second you convulse, he pushes you back into the ocean, your gasp of relief second to only his bruising kiss completely devouring your mouth. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, and your back meets the ocean floor again. This time, you take the lead, rolling him off to straddle his waist again. 

Rafayel glances at you, gorgeous pastel eyes hooded. 

He notices how comfortable you’re getting underwater; how easy it is for you to scoot down his torso, your playful smirk making his cock and heartstrings throb. 

“Baby—” he mumbles, only to be cut off by the sight of you kissing his bulbous tip.

Rafayel isn’t a believer of god per say (coming from his own experience as a retired sea deity), but at the sight of your pretty lips skimming his merman tip, he thinks he could give religion another shot. 

What’re you doing? His whisper carries across the currents.

Ssh, you hush him, rimming the tip of your tongue around his flushed head. You don’t miss how his tail twitches, cock now painfully at full mast. 

Isn’t it obvious? You mumble, kissing the tip reverently. I want to taste my Lemurian's pretty cock.

He seizes, back arching, putty in your hands when you take him down as deep as your little throat allows. 

What else you couldn’t fit, you used your hands to jack up and down.

Soft hisses slip past his clenched teeth. “You’re driving me crazy, baby.”

Mhm, you slur, flickering your hazy, fucked out gaze to his flushed face. Tastes so good, you whisper, and Rafayel was glad the ocean didn’t show the line of drool that usually trickles down your jaw; your fucked out expression which would make his control snap instantly. 

You would need to consume at least three more mouthfuls of Hydroweed before he was fully done with you. 

Luckily, Thomas’ yacht came with some fluffy towels.

Rafayel had wrapped you in one while he laid the other under your back; content to curl his tail around you, still in his Lemurian form. The honeywood deck was warm to the touch, the balmy evening offering comfort and respite from hours underneath the cold, dark ocean. 

“So…” he quips, not one for stewing in silence. “Questions? Thoughts? Comments?” 

You fight back a smile. 

“Was there really eggs put up inside of me? Swore I felt a lot of round and hard things sloshing inside.”

“That… would be my tip.” Rafayel flicks your nose when you scoff. “On a scale of one to ten, how freaked out would you be if I said I did actually put some eggs up in your body and it had to be fertilized so the rest would start falling out of you like gelatinous goo until the only one takes?” 

You blink. “Pretty freaked out, if I’m being honest.”

“So… a nine?” 

“More like—” you lifted your hand and made a so-so motion. “—a six, at best. I’m kinda used to your bullshit by now, babe.” 

“Hey!” Rafayel tugs on the ends of your hair, making you laugh. Growing serious now, he murmurs, “So, you’re absolutely fine with being knocked up with a half-Lemurian kid?” 

“Depends,” you mumble mildly. “Am I the first one you’re doing this with?”

Barely missing a beat, he nodded. “The only one. Never had time to sleep around. Always busy running a kingdom. Blah-blah. Typical God of the Sea stuff. No biggie.”

“Aw,” you coo, “I’m so honored you waited for me.” 

You expected him to scoff or roll his eyes, not lapse into a serious quietness. Rafayel’s silence stretched on, and you perched your jaw on his shoulder.

“Hey. Penny for your thoughts?” 

“Hmm.” Rafayel tugs you closer, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his cheek. His lips are inches apart from yours, warm breath touching your parted mouth. You taste him on your tongue, invigorating yet comforting.

A well-worn sign of home. 

“Just that I would do it all over again. Wait for you, I mean. Even if it takes a long, long time.”

A few centimeters and 800 years stand between the two of you. 

But, for tonight, you breach the distance and kiss him, grateful that you had been given this cherished memory together with Rafayel.

— rbs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or translate my work across other platforms.

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A Comedy of Errors. Chapter 1: Negotiations

Background: Y/N is a transfer student who joined Karasuno High in her second year because her family shifted to Miyagi. She is a volleyball player and plays as a wing spiker (ace) in the Girl’s Volleyball team.  

Pairing: Karasuno x fem reader || Romantic Pairing: Asahi x fem reader

Genre: Comedy and slight fluff at the end

A/N: Comedy is back!!! I am so excited to be writing fun stuff again because the response on the last funny story was so great and I had so much fun writing it and imagining the funny scenarios (you should definitely give it a read, I am sure you will enjoy it). As soon as I had the idea for this story, I just got straight to writing and haven’t stopped. Hope you enjoy!!

The first time Asahi saw you, it felt like he was seeing the sun for the first time.

Since the boys’ basketball team has been occupying the boys’ gym a lot, lately, Daichi asked Michimiya if he could use the girls’ gym in the evening. 

Michimiya, of course, had been more than happy to say yes to Daichi and handed him the spare keys in her excitement. In fact, keys were nothing. if Daichi had asked her for a kidney, she would probably have ripped her own out of herself and handed it to him. 

However, even though she had said yes to him with such confidence and assured him that she would make the arrangements for the boys to practice, there was a giant hurdle standing in her way. 

Once she had squeezed every extra second she could talking to Daichi, as soon as he left, she turned and ran to the floor where the second years’ classes were. 

Continuar lendo

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Not Again- Part Four

Summary: With the discovery of a special book, Y/n is one step closer to home. The inner court learns even more about her family back home. And Azriel needs a babysitter of his own

Series Masterlist

-Part Four-

Amren found them in the kitchen, food had been waiting for them on the counter before they’d even arrived, the house it seemed was sick of her not eating as well. She’d simply laughed at the nagging presence and started filling her plate. Azriel had entered moments later, a small scowl on his lips from being left in her dust. He’d huffed and quietly filled his plate, he wasn’t kidding when he said flying worked up his appetite.

“I have use of your stray, boy. Go find somewhere else to be.”

Azriel gives the small female an unimpressed look, “nice to see you too, Amren.”

Y/n pushes her half eaten plate away, waving off the wisps of shadows that angrily dance around her at the action, “Did you find something?”

“I had that insufferable songbird pull any books she could find with your Wyrd marks,” Amren says, snapping her fingers.

A pile of books fall onto the counter, old withered pages that look like they hadn’t been opened in many many years. A plume of dust flies off them and Y/n wisks it away with a small breeze.

“Can you read them?” Azriel asks, eyeing the pages one book that’d fallen open.

“I thought I told you to find somewhere else to be?” Amren snaps, though there’s no threat behind it.

“My babysitter here is vigilant in his task,” Y/n sighs ignoring the withering look Azriel gives her, she takes one of the books into her hands and flips through some of the pages, “My mother taught me what she knew of the marks. Protection, locking, unlocking, many things like that, but we never covered gates, it simply wasn’t possible, and she didn’t want me testing fate.”

“Well to bad, it would’ve been useful to know that now,” Amren sighs, picking a book out of the stack, shoving it towards her, “Gwyn said this one practically jumped off the shelf at her.”

Y/n eyes the title and almost drops the book in shock. Azriel takes a casual step closer to peer over her shoulder at the book, a shadow finds her arm and gently wraps around it, a comforting touch.

“You know it?” Amren asks, giving that wisp of shadow a curious look, “I couldn’t read it, what is it called?”

“The Walking Dead,” Y/n answers breathlessly, “in my native language.”

Azriel couldn’t read the book, but he still looks over her shoulder periodically as she flips through each page. She’d been at it for hours, taking notes on the scraps of paper littered over the dining room table. Amren had taken the remaining books to look over, most had been fae scholars from this world musing over the marks, nothing quite as useful as the book in Y/n’s hands it would seem. Amren would also look over the Book of Breathings, see if anything jumped out at her.

Y/n had barely spoken to him the whole time, quietly mumbling to herself once in a while as she wrote. Azriel noticed that her notes switched between his language and her own in sporadic patterns, sentences switching back and forth, one word in one language then the next in the other. Swirling letters that connected in long strokes of her pen. The words were close together, she hardly lifted the pen as she finished one to write the next, like her brain was moving faster than her hand could keep up.

She was so focused that she didn’t notice Azriel slip out the door, didn’t notice when Rhys had appeared and waved him towards the hall.

“How’s research going?” The High Lord asks, “Amren has yet to find anything useful.”

Azriel turns an eye through the door, at the female still engrossed in that book, “nothing yet, though it seems Y/n may put Amren to shame in relentless focus. I don’t think she’s looked away from that book for more than the few seconds it takes to write something down.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Amren she has the competition,” Rhys chuckles, “I hear you two went for a flight today. All over Velaris people are talking about the almighty Shadowsinger chasing after a bird all afternoon.”

He gives Azriel a shit eating grin and Az scowls back at him, “she was determined to leave her babysitter in the dust.”

His scowl deepens when Rhys just laughs, “what? Don’t like chasing after pretty females?”

“I’m sure his ego is just bruised cause he can’t keep up,” Y/n’s voice calls out from the room behind them, “Big strong males tend to dislike being shown up by us pretty females.”

Azriel glares over his shoulder at the female who hadn’t even looked up from her notes, “I can keep up just fine.”

“Sure you can,” she laughs, turning a page, “I won’t hold back next time if that’s what you wish.”

His shadows laugh in his ears and he turns his glare on them. Rhys next to him grins as he walks into the room, eyes taking in the mess of papers full of Y/n’s half put together thoughts. She finally looks up then, acknowledging the male with a small nod of her head.

Her eyes are tinged red, like she hadn’t even blinked in the time she’d been sitting there. She glances at him, grinning at the scowl still on his lips. He glares harder, shoving his shadows down as they continue to laugh at him.

Rhys looks between them, “found anything useful?”

It breaks their stare and her smile falls. Azriel gets the strangest sense that he wants it back.

“Yes and no,” she sighs, “I recognize a lot of it, this was the book my mother learned a lot of what she knows of the Wyrd marks. She used it to open a gate to the place souls rest once to talk to… a friend. I’m sure it’s in here somewhere, I just need to keep looking.”

He notes the pause, the shift of her tone, whoever Aelin had tired to talk to, it was a sore subject. Take a break, she’s sad again, sad, she needs to rest, working for hours, hours, break. Azriel is half tempted to hiss at the nosey little shadows. They’d been at it for the last hour, as soon as the sun started to dip below the horizon, it’s like they switched into nanny mode. He wasn’t sure why they were so concerned anyway, she was more than capable of taking care of her damn self.

“The gates are the tricky ones,” she continues, grabbing pages of notes, “I’m close to figuring it out, I could probably open a gate, but to get to the right place is the hard part is opening one to the right place. I could just as easily walk right into a hell realm as I could into my own. And as fun as that seems, I’d rather not test my luck.”

“How many realms are out there?” Azriel asks.

“Who knows,” she shrugs, “my mother remembers falling through many, she couldn’t even describe most of them because of how fast she was falling. Give me a day and I think I could figure this out-“

“You’ve been at it for hours,” Rhys cuts in, “surely you could take a break. Maybe join us for dinner? We’ve all stewed up more questions for you, Cassian has a list.”

Yes, yes, yes, dinner, she didn’t eat enough, yes. Mother above, he wished he could get the shadows to shut up.

Y/n hesitantly glances at the papers surrounding her on the dining room table, “I seem to have commandeered the space. I’d hate for it to get stained.”

Azriel could tell that what she really wanted to say was, I need to keep working so I can get home. It was written in the longing glances at the book, in the way she flew towards the horizon like home was on the other side, the way she looked at the sky expectantly, searching for something he couldn’t quite figure out.

“We’ll eat at my home,” Rhys shrugs, “your research will be here, exactly where you left it when you return.”

She looks ready to argue, to deny, to beg to stay, but instead she sighs, “Is dinner a casual affair, or does your lot like to preen?”

Rhys laughs, “It’s whatever you like, preen as much as you wish.”

She hums, “My babysitter and I will be there shortly then.”

Mother, give him strength. She pushes to her feet, giving him that saccharine smile as she walks past him towards her room. Her scent lingers as she leaves, that hint of embers stronger than usual. He can’t help the subtle intake of air, nor the shadow that grazes her wrist like it would wrap around and make her stay.

She’s barely out the door before Rhys is clapping him on the shoulder with a quiet chuckle, “do you need a babysitter? I’m sure Cassian would like to return the favor.”

Azriel snarls at him, “We’ll see you at the house brother.”

Rhys just laughs again, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he moves towards the door, “take your time. I wouldn’t blame you for being a little late.”

“Get out.”

Azriel waits for her in the living room, she’d still been in her room when he’d gotten dressed, which wasn’t surprising since it only took him a few minutes to change into a slightly nicer shirt, he didn’t bother with the preening, Rhys did that enough for all of them.

Heel clicks on the floor alert him to her approach, she turns the corner into the room and Azriel couldn’t stop the way his body goes absolutely still.

He thought night court black suited her but he was wrong, she looked good in it but it didn’t compare to the way she looked in this dress. Deep green of a forest, the silk fabric flows with her body like water, showcasing each of those curves like currents, with accents of silver thread and shining jewels that glow in the light like the stars above. She’d lined her eyes with kohl, giving them that sultry look that could drive a male wild. And her lips, Mother help him, her lips were painted a deep wine red, so dark it could’ve been black.

Gorgeous, she was absolutely gorgeous. He’d known she was pretty, he wasn’t blind, he’d noticed when he’d found her laying in the moonlight, even covered in blood she was beautiful, but it didn’t strike him till now exactly how attractive she was.

“You like what you see shadowsinger?” Her grin is feline and lethal, voice dripping with honey, “I told you I was your type.”

He doesn’t respond, simply continues to look her over. There’s a fire in her eyes that has his shadows whirling around him and when her head angles in that predator way, he’s almost willing to be the prey.

House wasn’t a good discriptor of the giant building that sits before her. Manor maybe, but Azriel had called it the River House. Rhys and Feyre’s personal residence that Feyre had apparently designed herself. The garden in the back had been where she’d fallen into this world, she’d been to frantic to really appreciate her surroundings. It was absolutely beautiful.

Azriel led her through the front door and the interior was just as magnificent as the outside, intricate and elegant, yet it still felt warm and lived in. A multitude of paintings lined the walls as they walked to the dining room. From their conversation earlier, she assumed they were done by Feyre herself. The High Lady had mentioned her art studio, she had a class this afternoon that she would be teaching. Y/n had leaned towards musical arts, but she always loved going to galleries with her aunt Lysandra. According to Rhys, there was a section of Velaris called the rainbow, the artist quarter of the city. She assumed she’d flown through it today with Azriel, the place had been alive, filled with music that she couldn’t help but be drawn to.

As they moved down the hall she could hear the sounds of the Inner Court, as they called themselves, growing closer and closer. Their laughter reminded her of home, of dinners with the cadre and her uncles visiting from Adarlan, or even Nesryn and Sartaq all the way from the southern continent. They were never quiet affairs, always full of laughter and teasing, usually from Fenrys and Dorian on the later.

The last dinner like that had been little over a month ago. She’d dressed up in a gown this exact color. Her aunt Elide had helped her do her makeup, she’d practically had to hold her down in her chair so she could finish, to excited to sit still. It was her favorite nights of the year, these dinners, seeing her family come together all in one place. Sometimes they’d even convince Manon to join them, never aunt Manon, though she’d gotten away with that once when she was a child. It was always magical seeing her and Dorian dance around each other as if they weren’t desperate for the other.

She would sit there and watch her family, watch the way everyone loved each other. How her parents would stare into each others eyes and grin like someone had told a joke. How her uncle Aedion would dance with her aunt Lysandra to music only the two of them could hear. How uncle Chaol and aunt Yrene would bicker together with smiles still on their lips, to the utter annoyance of her cousin, Josefin. She watched them all, and hoped one day she would have someone who would love her just as fiercely

“Where’d you go, princess?”

Her mind drifts back from that far away place across the stars, finding Azriel’s gaze on her. Stoic as always, but she could see the bit of concern behind those whiskey eyes. It warms something in her, just barely, just enough for her to give him a small but genuine smile.

“Home,” she says quietly, “I was home.”

“So you’re telling me, a demi fae is one of your strongest warriors,” Cassian says, throwing quotes around the words, “and the guys power is death, just pure death? And he’s how tall exactly?”

Y/n laughs, “My uncle Lorcan has described it to me as death, I’m not sure what that means exactly, it was a gift from the old God of Death, Hellas. It looks like Azriel’s shadows, though they’re not sentient little creatures more like whips of shadow that he controls. I don’t know how tall he is exactly but he’s taller then you, he’s taller than all three of you males, actually. You should see the height difference between him and Elide.”

Azriel couldn’t help the small grin on his lips as his brother continues to pester Y/n over the apparently giant uncle of hers. It’d started with him asking about her father, and then the rest of his cadre. She’d told them all about the mighty warriors. Fenrys, who she could only describe as very very pretty, he could shift into a giant white wolf, and winnow, though not quite as much as those here could. Lorcan, the giant shadow wielder, who’s name is apparently Lord Lorcan Lochan, to everyone’s utter amusement. And a mysterious figure named Vaughan, who she admits wasn’t around a lot when she grew up, usually away in Wendlyn, he could shift into a massive osprey.

“There’s no way, he’d have to be like seven feet tall,” Cassian argues, mouth opening to ask yet another question.

Nesta elbows him in the side, “I want to hear more about the shapeshifter.”

“Lysandra,” Y/n supplies the name with a warm smile, “Her favorite form is a snow leopard, lethal creatures, but the softest fur you’d ever felt in your life. When I was a child she’d let me cuddle up next to her by the fire to take naps.”

“You’d mentioned a sea battle earlier,” Mor chimes in, “what was the creature she shifted into.”

Y/n’s eyes light up, “One of my favorite stories, I would beg to hear it again and again. It’s called a sea dragon, the companions of the Mycenians of old Terrasen. When they were banished from their home centuries ago the sea dragons all died out and it became legend that once the dragons returned, so would the Mycenians.”

Azriel watches her, enraptured by her stories. It had been like that the whole night. She’d been stolen away by Feyre as soon as they’d arrived, more and more questions being thrown at her throughout dinner. He’d taken a seat across from her next to Cassian, who had by far asked her the most. But she met each one with a story, that look in her eye from out in the hall hidden but not gone. She’d seemed lost, far far away, and so sad. He’d almost turned around and brought them back to the house of wind just so she could keep looking for a way home, just to erase that look. But when she’d smiled at him, all he could do was stare.

“During the war my mother had traveled to Skulls bay.” She talked with her hands, Azriel noticed. “One of the missing Mycenians was there, she’d figured it out a long time before that when she was still an assassin, when she’d wrecked the whole port to free hundreds of slaves. Captain Rolfe, the pirate lord, was not happy to learn the assassin who’d ruined his island was actually the long lost Queen of Terrasen. He refused to send aid, so my mother did what she does best, she schemed. Her and my aunt devised the plan to bring the sea dragon back. The battle didn’t go quite as planned, the valg had sea wyverns, vicious and powerful. But that sea dragon form, huge and magnificent was stronger, smarter. She used them against the valg forces, sending those beasts straight into the hulls of their own ships. My mother tells me that she could barely keep up with Lysandra’s speed, if you blinked she was gone. It was close, she was badly wounded, but she won.”

“Wow,” Elain breathes, eyes sparkling, “That’s amazing.”

“My uncle Aedion tells it better,” Y/n shrugs, smiling at the memory, “He always told me that it was then that he decided he could not live without her. When he saw her bleeding on that beach still in that huge form, half wild from the fight, he wasn’t afraid of her even though she looked ready to bite his head off.”

Cassian laughs, hooking an arm over the back of Nesta’s chair, “I know the feeling.”

Nesta looked half tempted to bite him right then to prove his point. Cassian simply grins at his mate, that telltale look in his eyes that would usually have the pair leaving early at any moment.

Azriel rolls his eyes at the pair, looking towards the female across from him. To find Y/n already looking right back. She’s got that overly sweet smile on her painted lips that she knows gets under his skin. He gets the sense that she enjoys it, the way he glares at her, it’s like a game. See how much she could push before he finally pushed back.

Rhys leans forward, that knowing grin on his lips again, “How fast can you fly in that hawk form? You said you went easy on poor Az earlier.”

She laughs and somehow he doesn’t care that it’s at his expense, “Very very fast, I can shift the air under my wings to go even faster. I could make it to the house of wind in less than a minute if I wished.”

“Impressive,” Azriel says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh don’t be a sore loser, Az,” she taunts.

It’s the first time she’s called him that, he quite enjoys the sounds of it, “Is it really losing if your competitions got a boost?”

“Only using what’s in my arsenal,” she shrugs nonchalantly, taking a sip of her wine.

Azriel’s eyes zero in on the motion, appreciating the way her lips rest on the edge of the glass. He was right, that color stained.

Careful brother, Rhys whispers in his mind, Or I really will send Cassian to babysit you.

He glares at the high lord, I do not need a sitter.

That’s what Cassian said, Rhys shrugs, Now look at him.

And it’s like a timer goes off on his patience, Cassian stands from his chair, taking his mate’s hand in his own.

“Well I think it’s time for us to go,” Cassian declares, he’d lasted longer than Azriel thought he would.

Nesta turns her eye on Y/n, “We train at the house of wind every morning, 8 am sharp, be there.”

Y/n grins, baring those sharp canines, and Azriel has the good sense to be wary of letting those two near each other in a sparring ring.

Tag List- Anyone in white could not be tagged. Let me know if I got your tag wrong!!

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 @fussel9913

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Any Weight - Idia

Author Notes: So I really didn't know what I was going to post today in terms of oneshots, so this happened. This fic has been sitting my google docs for quite while and honestly started out life as practice for writing Idia. I wrote this and edite it while listening to the song "Heavy in Your Arms" by Florence in the Machine. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff with angst/ comfort/ romance highly implied/ Spoilers for Ignihyde Chapter

Word Count: 1539

Idia shifted slightly as you leaned against his back, reading some book as he farmed one of his games. And in easy, quiet moments like this, with the weight of your body resting gently against his, feeling like a silent but ever-present promise, it was easy to forget the truth of his situation. Of his life.

But Idia was cursed. It was a weighty, but simple truth that had hung over his head for his entire life. Because he’d never known a life where he wasn’t cursed.

Idia was cursed to remain chained to the Island of Woe, to S.T.Y.X., and to guard the remains of those who’d fallen prey to their own magic and dark thoughts, just like he almost had back when you’d come all the way to S.T.Y.X.’s headquarters after Grim and your friends.

Idia was also cursed to never be able to feel darkness’s embrace, which could hide even the greatest of shames, until the light inevitably came. Because his hair always shone that cold blue light on him. Never letting him hide away from the gaze of all those who looked upon him in horror or disgust and saw all of his many flaws.

Idia was even cursed by his own personality. Unable to tolerate being around others without shutting down and drowning in their silent gazes. Judgmental, fearful, and sometimes pitying, no matter how he felt about it.

It was disgusting, infuriating, and so many other things that left him filled with ire towards anyone and everyone who didn’t understand him or his life. If they were going to gawk at him, then he would mock them for their naive, stupid views, and avoid them. There was no use in bothering with people who would never care.

After all, his life had been decided for him from the very moment he’d been born.

And all of those reasons, as well as so many others, were why he’d pushed you away initially. A laughable thought now, considering you were sitting on his bed, with your back pressed to his in a gentle reminder of your presence that, rather than causing him to tense like so many did, made him relax into the silence that rested easily between the two of you.

But when he’d first met you, he never would have imagined this. Not with how you’d seemed so strange. 

A weirdo, to be sure, with the way your gaze had never held that crushing weight that threatened to smother him that so many others had.

Some person from another world who apparently had far greater concerns than a flame-haired freak that lived in some other dorm. And, to an extent, Idia had been able to respect that.

It had quickly become obvious that you were more than just a weirdo, though. If nothing else, you were capable of handling and surviving numerous overblots. And even as he was getting to know you, it had already been clear to Idia that you were capable of so much more than him.

And that was still clear to him even today. Because if he was a curse, then you were more akin to a blessing.

A blessing who stepped in and stopped overblots from destroying their victims rather than studying the remains of those who were already done for.

A blessing who could see people at their very worst, and still accept them.

And finally, you were a blessing in that you had a personality that was like a balm to introverts. A person he could just be himself around without having to be surrounded by the multitude of people who’d already noticed your calming demeanor.

In reality, Idia knew you weren’t a blessing. Something so good could never survive in a school like this one. And he’d experienced firsthand exactly how much of a pest you could be.

But even with that knowledge, there were still moments when you were like a protagonist with the way you stood out so glaringly from the crowd.

Of course, Idia stood out from the crowd as well, but never in a remotely good way. 

At odds with this, your only supposedly negative quality was that you lacked magic. And while it did make your life a pain sometimes, you never let it bother you. Not like how Idia let his negative qualities and anything he lacked burden him.

And it was a heavy burden. A heavy burden that Idia knew made him equally heavy and unpleasant to be around. Because Idia was no fool. He knew his presence, his friendship, and even his very existence was a weighty one. He could easily drag a person down to their doom with the curses that trailed after him, like an entourage that couldn’t and wouldn’t go unnoticed.

And all of those reasons, plus a myriad of others, were why your presence here, with him, right now ought to be strange. But it wasn’t. In fact, it was perfectly normal for you to hang out with him in the solace of his room. Sometimes gaming with him, and sometimes just doing your own thing in silent companionship.

The selfish part of him clung to both you and your presence even as he continued to face his game in silence. 

Were he just a bit bolder, it would be easy to imagine himself turning to face you and wrapping his arms around your neck, with his fingers curling around your temple as if they could crown you as he cradled you to him.

But what could he ever crown you with other than the knowledge that you deserved far better?

It was his way of betraying you, and he knew that. His betrayal was one of the reasons he never tried to cross the dotted line that strained to keep you and him from growing any closer. Similarly, it was the reason the silence remained between the two of you as Idia pondered all of the oddities that were your relationship with him.

Because you supported him. Embracing him in your arms like he was weightless, rather than the way he knew he had to be a chain tangling itself around your ankles, threatening to trip you up and drag you down.

But you didn’t let him sink, and you didn't get pulled down by him. 

It was like you were a hero in some tropey anime. Willing to plunge into the very deepest of sorrows and pull him out. Never fearing the chances of drowning in the deep darkness of his curses, but also not shunning the light that revealed all. Good and bad.

Or if you did fear it, you didn’t let that fear hold you back. And perhaps that thought was even more alarming. Because that meant you cared about him enough to not let fear hold you back.

Either way, you seemed to just accept both his good and bad traits. Taking it all on with a smile not unlike the one you’d worn when you’d first forced your way into his life.

You’d shrugged off his moody words and met his gaze with your smiling one, “Nobody’s perfect, and it’s not like you’re the only guy at NRC who has overblotted or has caused me problems.”

You were definitely still a strange one, but Idia could no longer view that strangeness as bad. How could he when you could somehow look at the chains that surrounded him, binding him to his curses and doing their best to condemn him and those he chose to tie himself to, and smile in the face of it all? 

But as frustrating as your strange but oddly charming weirdness was, it made him want to do better.

To support you just like how you supported him. To let you know that even in this world that was not your own, you weren’t alone.

If you could willingly walk into that never-ending light that constantly showed his every weakness to the entire, unforgiving, and uncaring world, then he would hide you in the darkness and carry you when it hurt too much.

Because he knew it hurt, even if you hid it well with that smile that only seemed to truly fail you when you were facing an overblot or when the mention of your home came up.

Even if you were strong enough to carry him and all his curses, Idia knew it hurt and that the nights were long for you. 

In fact, it was obvious to him.

Because that weight you carried was why, even after having made friends and forged yourself a family, you still sought your own world. And he recognized that weight’s presence. How could he not when he was all too familiar with carrying a burden all his own?

But you would never be too heavy for him. Not when he was used to carrying the weight of his own curses.

He could carry you, and you would never drag him down. In fact, he doubted your feet would ever even touch the ground. Because, just like how the weight of you leaning against him was more of a comfort than a burden, he knew that, if it was you, he could carry any weight.

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